Social Experiment
by Domiel
Summary: John thinks Sherlock is acting strange. Or, at least, more so than usual.


John had always considered Sherlock's oddness as a given, but the word received a new meaning one cold February morning. Sherlock had sat at his laptop since, and quite probably long before John had awoken, and had stared blindly at his laptop, the homepage of his website- _The Science of Deduction_- glowing faintly on the screen.

Every so often, he would mutter something that John couldn't make out and his left leg would nervously bounce up and down a few times before coming to a rest again.

When John touched his shoulder in an attempt to rouse him and offer him some tea, Sherlock leapt to his feet and snapped his laptop shut; though it still displayed only his homepage.

John decided to leave Sherlock to his musings and go for a stroll. London was always lovely and foggy this time of year, and they had run out of milk. Sherlock never bothered to buy any, even when John texted him about it. Then again, Sherlock never bothered to buy anything.

John stood in front of the mirror that hung above the 221B fireplace and put on his scarf. He didn't really need it for that purpose, but he wanted to use it as an excuse to watch Sherlock in the reflection, without being too obvious. He was no Holmes but he wanted to figure out the source of his strange behavior. He was still sitting at his computer when, without any warning, he got up and walked over to stand behind John. They both observed each other in the mirror for a while, until John turned around to face Sherlock.

He was a lot closer than John expected him to have been, but John was unsurprised by his antics. He expected to receive a full description of all his psychological glitches or to be ordered to retrieve his mobile phone from his very dressing gown pocket. Of course, with the distance between them it would be as close, if not closer, for him to do just that.

But Sherlock surprised him by keeping his silence. After a beat he reached out and took both John's hands into his own, intertwining their fingers together, and letting their arms hang by their sides. There was almost no distance between them now, and Sherlock's hands felt cold and slightly clammy. Finally, John understood. He was being subjected to one of Sherlock's social experiments. He wondered how this one would end.

"Before you go…" Sherlock said slowly, almost forcefully. His voice sounded dry and gravelly, and before John could utter a word in question, Sherlock leaned down and pressed his cold lips against John's own.

John was so surprised that he staggered backward and banged his left shoulder blade on the wooden shelf atop the fireplace. Sherlock didn't let go of him when this happened- not with his hands nor with his lips- and was now completely stooped over John, his hunched shoulders seemed to envelope him like protective angel wings.

When John finally opened his eyes he saw Sherlock's green ones staring back at him, just millimeters away. His pupils were dilated to the point of almost completely eclipsing the pale green. This made his stomach turn over and he gave a sharp inward gasp, breaking the connection.

In a single fluid motion, Sherlock turned on his heel and walked back to his computer in two strides. He sat down with a sense of finality and resumed watching his unmoving computer screen.

John stared straight ahead through the space in which Sherlock had just been. Now, he saw the wall on the opposite side of the room. He was too shocked to utter a word, but a word didn't need to be uttered. The air hummed with words unsaid that needn't saying. Both were frozen for a moment, suspended in time over what had just occurred, still a few moments in the past.

Finally, John forced himself to break out of his trance and put on his jacket, which lay sprawled on a nearby armchair. It took him a few tried to get his arm through the sleeve. His whole body felt unstable.

On his way out the door John hesitated. He faced Sherlock, opening and closing his mouth trying to find words, frowning at each breath in and sighing upon each breath out. He was so absorbed in finding the right thing to say that he didn't notice Sherlock looking at him. His body was rigid, in the same position as it had previously been, fists clenched on the table. But his eyes were shifted sideways, looking at John. _Evergreen_. John twitched his head down to the side and blinked furiously, physically feeling the heat coming off his face. He turned without a second to lose and walked out the door and down the stairs into the hallway, supporting himself against the wall on his descent.

* * *

It was because he didn't look back at 221B in his haste to cross the street that he was oblivious to Sherlock watching him out of one of the windows. A violin was propped against his chin, the bow poised in the air, moving with the tune he played. The tune was fast and the bow flickered alongside it, in complete harmony. Despite the tune's tempo, it still sounded heavy, but to those who knew Sherlock it would sound almost… _merry_.


End file.
